


the doctor is in

by whoistorule



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoistorule/pseuds/whoistorule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this started as a 2 sentence idea in Austin's ask box and then turned into this. For some reason I’m imagining this on like… a dentist’s plastic fabric chair not a doctor’s long table/bench thing.  Shhh.  Just go with it.</p><p>Anyway, this is porn, plain and simple.  Enjoy!</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Tonight Clint's a blur.  What exactly he's fueled by, Bucky couldn't say, he knows only his own anger; it was his only bedfellow for years, warmed him when he had naught else to. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	the doctor is in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionlannister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionlannister/gifts).



It's never a question of who threw the first punch.  Bucky's not the one who worries he's not good enough, his problem is that he is; he's faster, deadlier, capable of greater cruelty, of superhuman strength. He goads and steels himself for the keen fury of Clint Barton, uses his momentum against him, throws the other man against the mats, then turns sharply, knowing how fast Clint will be up again.  It's their dance, their ritual, hours after the other Avengers have cleared off the floor, home to their lives, their families, Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes raise flesh and steel, testing each other.  (Testing themselves.)

Tonight Clint's a blur.  What exactly he's fueled by, Bucky couldn't say, he knows only his own anger; it was his only bedfellow for years, warmed him when he had naught else to.  With a hurried crouch, Bucky slides out his leg, not expecting to catch Clint at all, but instead of the sound of Clint whirring past him he feels Clint make contact, and before Bucky can grab him, Clint's tumbling across the mats, his bare shoulder catching on the metal corner of the pommel horse base.  There's an audible tear of steel through skin, and then Clint's quiet "shit."

Bucky knows him well enough to hear the grunt of pain in his voice, his head already shaking 'no,' even as Clint stands to wave him forward for another pass.

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding, Barton.  All over the nice new gym mats."

"These mats aren't new they're like 20 years old and I'm fine."

Arms crossed, steel against skin, Bucky glares at him. "You need to see a doctor."

"I'm fine!"

"That needs to be cleaned and stitched or one of these days they're going to end up taking it off."

"It's a scratch."

Bucky could tell from the sound Clint made, from the grit in his teeth, the way he held his left hand against the skin, from the metallic tang in the air and the sticky brown blood already staining Clint's hands that it was anything but.  Still, he knew how obstinate Clint could be. Would be. "At least let me look at it."

When Clint laughs, he stiffens, grimacing, the ripple in his chest clearly paining him. "What are you going to do about it?" 

"Come on, Barton.  I was trained to stitch myself up if I had to. You can at least let me take a look."

Cautiously, Bucky took a step forward, then another until he was square with Clint.  Carefully, he peeled back Clint's hand and examined the cut.  It was a quarter of an inch deep and would need a few stitches, at least.  Quietly, Clint winced.  "You definitely need to see a doctor."

"It's fine.  I've had worse.  I just need to get home."

"You're not leaving. Not without me patching you up."

"Bucky I'm--"

"Fine. I know. But if you don't let me sew you up, you know what I'm going to have to do."

Clint paled.

"I'm going to have to call Natasha."

\--

If Clint was stubborn in the training room, he was somehow worse in the medical office.  He complained the whole time Bucky was cleaning his wound that all this fuss would be unnecessary and that he was, as he had said, completely fine, even as it became increasingly obvious that he wasn't.  But now, the needle glinting in his human hand, Clint was squirming and refusing.

"Will you hold still for one second, Barton?"

"You cleaned it already I don't see why you have to stitch it."

"Because if I don't it could get infected or reopen.  You've been stitched up a million times I don't see why this is a problem."

"Yeah by doctors. After actual fights.  I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time I swear I will strap you to this chair."

That brought color to Clint's cheeks, along with a defiant grin. "I'd like to see you try."

The glint in the other man's eyes gave Bucky an idea. "You know I will." Roughly, Bucky grabbed Clint's jaw between steel fingers. "And once I have you there, I'm not sure I'll let you go either." Before he could protest, Bucky kissed him, hard, grinning as Clint pushed back against him.  It's not until he broke away, panting that Clint even noticed the needle had pierced his flesh.

"See? One stitch done.  Only three more to go."

Eyes bright, Clint licked his lips, and Bucky felt something in him undo.  "Three more?"

"Three," Bucky released Clint's jaw, sliding his hand to the tuft of hair at the base of Clint's neck.  With a tug, he pulled Clint's neck back, his chin jutting up, "more."

This time when he kissed him, Clint was ready, his lips parting, aggressive.  Clint's teeth pulled at Bucky's lip and it was all he could do to keep his other hand steady as it drew through Clint's skin.  Drawing back, Bucky eyed his handiwork.  It wasn't the neatest, but it was passable this far. 

"Two, now. You've got to hold steadier."

"Me?"

"Yes," releasing the back of Clint's neck, Bucky pushed him back against the padded chair, pinning his arm down, "you."

The perils of holding Clint down on just one side left Bucky open to his attack, and attack Clint did, grabbing a fistfull of Bucky’s shirt, and pulling, hard, making him stumble against the chair.  There was no other option, but for Bucky to climb atop him, his thighs straddling Clint’s own.  Clint’s arms were strong, but Bucky had the advantage, both in power and position, pushing Clint against the plasticy fabric with a shove of his shoulders.  “Hold,” he said, pressing a kiss to the stubble of Clint’s jaw, “still.”

Pinned though he was, Clint Barton was never one to give up on a fight. If he couldn’t overpower Bucky, incapacitated though he was, he sought to win by distraction.  It was simple for Clint to arch forward, his kisses fervent against the skin of Bucky’s neck, pulling his attention away from the task at hand.  When the needle bit through Clint’s skin, Clint’s teeth nipped against Bucky’s arm once, twice, until he tied off the suture, placing the needle on the metal table beside them.

“There, Barton, was that so hard?”  Leaning across Clint, Bucky could feel the heat of his breath through the thin fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt, prolonging the motion with deliberation, gathering the bandages from the stand behind the chair one by one as Clint sucked a slow bruise onto the base of his collarbone.

“Stop,” Bucky commanded, yanking Clint back against the chair by his hair, “Not yet.”

The fabric was thin, but sturdy, and it stretched easily beneath Bucky’s fingers as he pulled it beneath the metal arm of the chair, affixing Clint’s wrists to the plastic, sticky with his sweat, one at a time, leaving his chest and legs free.  With each pull of knotted fabric against his wrist, Clint winced, his teeth gnashing, but not a word of protest passed through his lips.  Only once Bucky was satisfied with the strength of his knots did he tie the last bandage around Clint’s arm, gingerly, carefully, making sure not to get a stray thread in his knotting wound.

“Well, Barnes,” Clint said, eyebrows arched as Bucky stood to admire his handiwork, “Now that you have me still, what are you going to do with me?”

In answer, Bucky knelt, the cold tile creeping through the thin fabric of his work out pants, sending a shiver down his spine.  With a twisted smile, he cracked his knuckles, the sound snapping in the silent room, and splayed his hands against Clint’s muscular chest, feeling goosepimples rise beneath his calloused fingers.  Wiggling to help in any way he can, Clint lifted his hips, allowing Bucky to slide his pants below his ass as Bucky let his teeth scrape against Clint’s hip-bone before planting a kiss on the meat of his thigh.

Teeth scraping against bruising skin, Bucky raked across Clint’s stomach to his fallen pants, snapping the elastic waistband of his boxers against Clint’s skin, listening to the hard snap as they cut into his flesh.  Buckys breath was hot as he mouths against Clint’s cock through the thin cotton.  The only sound was Clint’s heavy breath, his chest heaving and tensing with anticipation, his bound fists clenched against the sticky plastic.

Hands free, Bucky slid Clint’s boxers to meet his trousers halfway down his legs; once freed, Clint’s cock bobs against Bucky’s lips, half-hard already.  Lightly, Bucky’s tongue darted between his lips to swirl around the head of Clint’s cock, tasting the pre-cum.  His half smile snarling, mocking almost Bucky smacked his lips, then wet his fingers, sucking them slowly letting his own teeth rasp against his skin.  Once wetted, Bucky slid his hands under Clint’s ass, brushing his thigh with a kiss.

Eye’s dark lidded with desire, Bucky looked up at Clint. He could see how Clint ached to be touched, how he strained against his bonds, but no one left the Red Room without learning how to tie a good knot.  Voice hoarse, Clint groaned, “Bucky, _please._ ”  That was all it took.  Without warning, he bit down hard on Clint’s thigh, Bucky’s finger slipping roughly into him as he did.

The noises Clint was making were practically obscene; barely suppressed cries and pleas. Bucky would smile, was he not otherwise occupied, as he felt Clint’s gaze upon him.  Lightly, he kissed the spot he bit, his tongue flicking gently against the blooming purple bruise, before moving onwards to the business of Clint’s no doubt aching cock.

Knowing that waiting only made the game better, Bucky ignored Clint’s shaft, sucking one of his balls between his parted lips.  One finger was still crooking in Clint’s ass, but he slid the other hand from beneath Clint to cup his neglected ball, lavishing it with attention. “Bucky,” Clint moaned, wriggling as best he could, but Bucky ignored him.  Releasing him, Bucky reversed the process, until Clint was whimpering with want.

Finally, once he’s sure Clint’s suffocating with anticipation, Bucky thrusted a second finger into him and opened his mouth to take Clint in, his tongue sliding along the underside of Clint’s cock. Bucky’s lips were wet with his precum, and they sucked and released in turn, applying pressure suddenly, and then letting Clint free; he knew the uncertainty must be driving Clint mad.

Clint came with a stifled moan, his teeth drawing lines on his wetted lips, and Bucky relaxed his jaw, swallowing Clint’s release with a grunt.  Clint’s taste lingered on the flat of Bucky’s tongue as he slid his mouth off Clint’s cock with a slick pop.  Hiding a smile, Bucky rose to kiss Clint hard on the lips.

“How’s my patient doing?” Bucky asked as he gingerly untied Clint, mindful of the new bluing lines on his wrists.

“That was a way better treat than a lollipop, I’ll tell you.”  Clint’s words were winded, and Bucky bit back a laugh.  “Can you be my doctor every time?”

“Well, I’m not sure, Barton.  I don’t think I take your insurance.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of _some_ way to pay you back.”

“You better.”


End file.
